


In The Snow

by ElenaCee



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Reveal, Season 3 Fall Hiatus Fic, Sort Of, The Winter Holiday Potluck Fic Fest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 06:59:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13141461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElenaCee/pseuds/ElenaCee
Summary: Chloe's list of Things To Ignore About Lucifer is getting too long, and something has to give.





	In The Snow

**Author's Note:**

> Oneshot. Part of the Winter Holiday Potluck Fic Fest.

 

“Mom, what are you getting Lucifer for Christmas?”

Chloe sighed, deep and heartfelt. “Ask me again in an hour, Monkey.”

Trixie nodded sagely. “What has he done now?”

They were sitting over coffee (in her case) and chocolate milk (in Trixie’s), taking a break from Christmas shopping. No Internet shopping for this mother-daughter team. Ever since Trixie had been old enough, they’d made a point of finding one day near Christmas to spend a little time together browsing malls and shops, giggling over ridiculous gifts, and bonding over not knowing what to give Dan.

This year, they had another person to worry about, because this inability to come up with ideas apparently extended to her partner.

Last year at the same time, Lucifer Morningstar had barged into Chloe’s life only months ago. She’d still been firmly in the “he’s a weirdo” camp then, so, getting him something for Christmas hadn’t even crossed her mind. Then the new year had rolled in, and over the course of it, he’d somehow managed to ingrain himself in her life. They’d grown closer over shared danger, stakeouts, and Lucifer being Lucifer; they’d even had a brief moment when she’d actually considered letting herself fall for him, only for him to…. It had been an eventful year, that’s for damn sure.

She sighed. “He hasn’t done anything in particular,” she said, playing with her cup. “He’s just… Lucifer.”

Trixie frowned at her. “So… tall and funny?”

That made Chloe smile. God, how she loved her daughter. “Yeah. And unpredictable. Chaotic. Unreliable. Surprising.” All the things Pierce wasn’t. Pierce was stoic, reliable. All the things Lucifer wasn’t.

_ Dammit. _

“Pretty,” Trixie added.

“Hmm, that’s not a word you use for men, though. Women are pretty. Men are handsome.”

“He’s pretty,” Trixie insisted. “Especially his eyes.”

Chloe couldn’t really contest that. Lucifer’s eyes  _ were  _ pretty. Warm, dark brown. Women (and undoubtedly some men) would kill for those lashes. And for that apparently smudge-proof eyeliner.

She mentally shook herself.  _ Pierce has nice eyes, too. _

“So,” Trixie interrupted her musings, “what are we getting him?”

_ A swift kick up his perfect ass,  _ Chloe thought uncharitably.  _ Or three, or ten. _ One for each time he’d disappeared, married, gone behind her back to follow his own agenda (whatever the hell  _ that  _ was), or kept things from her. For confusing the hell out of her, because she couldn’t hate him, even though God knew he’d given her enough reasons by now, because next thing she knew, he’d invariably turn around and be so sweet and sincere that she couldn’t stay mad at him.

If she was honest with herself, she knew that she didn’t truly want him out of her life, despite everything. She’d had predictable. Predictable was now her ex.

That didn’t help with knowing what she did want, though. Did she want Pierce? On paper, he seemed a saner, more reliable choice. Nice bod, too. And yet, something about him didn’t sit right with her.

She’d lost count of the number of times she’d almost turned up at Linda’s door to grill her over Lucifer and find out what his deal really was. Linda knew. Somehow, she was sure that Linda knew more than she did. Chloe had felt it, even though she hadn’t been aware of it at the time, when they’d celebrated her birthday in his penthouse. In hindsight, Linda had looked at his stuff like a scholar in a museum who didn’t even need to read the catalogue to understand each piece of art while Chloe had been the uneducated visitor who just liked looking at pretty pictures. Linda had seen different things than she had. What’s more, she’d  _ understood;  _ Chloe was certain of it.

So far, she hadn’t gone to Linda. She didn’t dare. She had a persistent feeling that, in Lucifer’s case, not knowing everything about him was a blessing. That feeling had been keeping her from looking any deeper for a while, and it had only grown stronger the more she learned about him.

“What do you think he’d like?” she finally came back to Trixie’s question.

_ She  _ could certainly guess what he’d like. A week-long party, tons of sex, gallons of booze. None of which she’d give him. (Certainly not the sex.)

Unbidden, a memory of him in one of his tailored-to-within-an-inch-of-his-life bespoke suits came back to her. He must have changed his tailor, because lately, they hardly left anything to the imagination; expensive fabric hugging the lines of his toned body like a second skin, especially the pants. She was pretty sure those things would be banned for public indecency in some states, and she was divorced, not dead. Of course she’d looked. Not that she’d needed to. The times she’d seen him in all his naked glory were seared into her memory for eternity.

She’d still looked.

Trixie, blessedly unconcerned by these adult distractions, put her head to one side, considering. “He did like playing Monopoly with us,” she said, swilling the chocolate milk in her cup around.

“So… a board game?” Well, Chloe had to admit that, if nothing else, it would certainly surprise him.

“No, Mom,” Trixie said with the exasperation children everywhere felt for their slow parents. “Not the game. The playing! How many adults that you know have never played Monopoly in their lives?”

That actually made Chloe think. “He’s the only one,” she finally realized. And Trixie was right. Now that she came to think about it, it had been abundantly obvious that night that he had never played before. At least not Monopoly. Did that extend to other board games? Was it a family thing? From the way he talked about his father and mother, full of resentment and ancient pain, she couldn’t picture him happily immersed in family activities.

He’d clearly had a difficult childhood and was now trying to make up for it with excessive sex and partying. So far, so obvious. But it didn’t explain everything. She sensed there was much more hidden underneath his paradoxically both polished and childlike surface, something she found herself increasingly hesitant to learn.

Trixie, meanwhile, was nodding in a “there you are, then” way. “He loved it. I could tell.” Slurping, she took a sip and licked her lips clean. “It makes sense, though. The Devil probably didn’t get to play much, in Hell.”

Chloe had to smile at that. “You do know, Monkey, that Lucifer’s not really the Devil, right?”

Trixie gave her a strange look. “I’ve known for a while that there’s no Santa Claus,” she said, “but I’m not so sure that Lucifer’s not really the Devil.”

 

* * *

 

It wasn’t the first time that the question of Lucifer’s identity had come up for Chloe, of course. Normally, she’d outright dismiss the notion that he really was the Devil and get back to her life, ignoring whatever didn’t make sense about him this time and focusing on keeping her solve rate high.

Slowly but surely, though, the list of things she was ignoring was getting too long to ignore.

This whole Sinnerman thing had really hung a lantern on it, too. For the first time, Chloe felt out of the loop. The lieutenant and Lucifer had been exchanging information behind her back. For some reason, Pierce’s need-to-know list hadn’t included her, a seasoned detective, but it had included a loose-cannon civilian consultant. And now, something else had happened between them that she again hadn’t been let in on. She had no actual proof of that, but her gut kept throwing up neon signs, and she had learned to trust it a while ago.

They were at the precinct. Chloe was typing up her report despite the persistent feeling that she still didn’t have the whole picture, while Lucifer was sitting across from her, watching Pierce.

And not in the way he’d normally watch people, either, with that “oh hello you’re an attractive one” look he usually had. No, he was watching Pierce like a hawk might watch a rabbit. Or, possibly, like a rabbit might keep a hawk in sight. He wasn’t even playing with any of the stuff on her desk, or with his chair. It was so unlike him it was disquieting.

First colluding, now this. What the hell was going on between those two?

Finally, Chloe reached a point where she couldn’t keep quiet. “Did he steal your flask?” she asked without preamble.

Lucifer turned his head to look at her. “What?”

Okay, this, too, was uncharacteristic. Normally, he’d have a comeback for that that would make her roll her eyes. “Pierce,” she added. “You’re looking at him like you want to - “ A thought struck. “‘Flip’ him?” she diverted her original sentence.

That gained her a scowl. “What?” Lucifer repeated, which was even more uncharacteristic.

“Well, he’s not unattractive, quite the opposite. Ella thinks he’s hot.”  _ I do, too, but that’s beside the point. _

“What’s that got to do with anything?” Lucifer huffed, turning to face her fully.  _ “Obviously, _ he’s hot. My intention isn’t recruiting him for the other team, though, if that’s even necessary -”

Now, it was her turn to ask, “What?”

“... I’m watching him because I recently learned something about him that makes me… wary.” He compressed his lips and made an abortive gesture. “Not that you’d believe me if I told you, Detective, provided you ever listened to me.”

“Oh.” She got it. “You’re mad at me because you think I didn’t listen to you the other day.”

“You  _ didn’t _ listen to me. You didn’t even let me finish a single sentence.”

“Because I knew what you were going to say!” she blurted.

“Oh, and what would that be?” He was ignoring Pierce now, fully focused on her.

Victory, sort of. “Something incomprehensible, something fantastical, or something that miraculously wouldn’t work for whatever reason but that would oh-so-conveniently let you weasel out of actually telling me anything,” she fumed, with more heat than she had intended.

“Well, I’ve been telling you all you need to know since the day we met, you just won’t bloody believe me!” he returned, equally heated. “It’s not my fault that I can’t show you right now!”

Their raised voices were beginning to draw attention, but Chloe found that she didn’t care. “Well,  _ I’ve _ been telling you again and again that you can talk to me about anything, show me anything, but instead you’ve chosen to lead me on, or go behind my back, or do your own thing without actually telling me anything except that you’re the Devil, which we both know can’t be true -”

_ “It is true!” _ he nearly yelled at her.

She didn’t have anything to reply that she hadn’t said before in one of a hundred variations, and silence fell like a heavy velvet curtain.

He was looking at her with his big dark eyes, moisture glittering in one of them, like he had so many times before that she thought that, by rights, she should be getting sick of it by now.

Except she wasn’t. Underneath it all, she still wasn’t ready to wash her hands of him. He still intrigued her beneath all that Luciferness. Most of all, him looking at her like that still moved her.

_ Dammit. _

“Everything okay?”

She turned to find Pierce leaning against the partition. “Yeah,” she said at the same time as Lucifer said, “Fine.”

“Just a little question of  _ identity  _ coming up again,” Lucifer added, pointedly. “You know how it is.”

To Chloe’s surprise, Pierce merely nodded at that, turned, and left.

Which left her alone with Lucifer at his most Lucifer-ous, and it had been a long day, and she couldn’t deal with him anymore, so she packed up her things and left. Fleeing from him, also like she had done so often before.

But she still didn’t want him out of her life, still didn’t hate him. It would be so much easier if she did.

_ Dammit. _

 

* * *

 

This was a good thing, too, because Lucifer emphatically remained a part of her life.

Just take today. Or rather, tonight. Morning, almost. She’d heard suspicious sounds from downstairs and come investigating to find him sneaking about her living room with the lights off, looking up startled when she switched them on.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded.

Not ‘how did you get in’, because she knew that he and locks were a non-issue. Not ‘do you know what time it is’, because he never cared about that. Not even ‘I almost shot you’, because nowadays, whenever there were suspicious sounds in her home, nine times out of ten it was Lucifer causing them, so she didn’t even have her gun on her.

He assumed that faux-innocent look that she’d ever admit out loud made her want to ruffle his hair. “Nothing.”

She looked at him, at her furniture, but she could spot nothing out of the ordinary. His hands were empty, and he was putting them into his pants pockets, drawing her eyes to his -  _ uh nope. _ “Uh-huh,” she said, hoping that this would eloquently cover her near slip while conveying her doubts.

“Sorry for disturbing you, Detective,” he went on. “I’ll, uh, be off. See you tomorrow?”

“Wait.”

He halted, looking at her with a mixture of curiosity and resignation.

She remembered how he’d refused to call her “Candy” when they’d posed as Mr and Mrs Morningstar, trying to trap the marriage counsellor (he’d settled for “Sweetie”, which was close enough) and didn’t go along with her about the time they’d been “married”, instead sticking to the facts as he knew them. Same as in the courtroom at Smith’s trial. Sticking to the truth, no matter what. She remembered how he wielded the truth like a sword when it suited him, and how he concealed it when he needed to, but always, she grudgingly had to admit, without telling any outright lies. Not even when it would have been for a good cause. Not even when it would have gotten him out of trouble.

It was like a compulsion.

She’d asked him ‘what are you doing here’, and he’d said, ‘nothing’. Which was the truth, because he’d just been standing there when she’d asked him. Had that maybe been the wrong question?

Maybe, if she wanted answers, she needed to take a leaf out of his Book Of Luciferness.

“Lucifer, what were you doing in here before I came down?” she asked him point-blank.

He looked away. “If I told that you that, it’d ruin the surprise.”

_ A-ha!  _ Also, _ surprise? _ She’d learned to be wary of his surprises, but she also knew, deep down in her heart, that he wasn’t malicious. Impulsive, thoughtless, chaotic, yes, but never ill-intentioned. Which was why his persistent claims of being the Devil were so ridiculous. “Will I… like this surprise?” she asked, cautiously.

His eyes flicked back to hers, and he sighed. “I’m hoping you will, but it’s a first for me, so I can’t be certain.”

Now she knew everything. Not. “Right. So, what is it?”

He blinked. “You want to know now? It’s not Christmas yet.”

“I thought you didn’t do Christmas.”

“I never said that.”

“Huh.” It was true, she had to admit. He’d never said it. She’d just assumed, because, you know, what with him being the Devil and all.

“What’s going on?” a little voice asked.

“Trixie,” Chloe sighed. “I’m sorry, Monkey. Go back to bed, we’ll be quiet.”

The little girl, clutching one of her stuffed toys, blinked in the bright light. “Hi, Lucifer,” she said, still groggy from sleep. “I dreamed that you had come through the chimney like Santa, and your wings were all sooty, and I was just about to help you clean them when I woke up. And here you are. Funny, huh?”

Chloe had to smile. One of these days, she’d find out whether Trix used these defusion tactics deliberately, or whether she just was being herself, and being herself just naturally defused things.

Lucifer, though, was giving her a strange look. “Funny indeed. I think you misspelled ‘Satan’ in your dream, though. The saint people nowadays call Santa Claus never had wings, either, so that’s two things you got wrong.”

“But you have wings?” Trixie followed up before Chloe could get back to the topic of her returning to bed.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Lucifer scoffed. “I’m the Devil.”

“Yes, but the Devil’s a Fallen Angel, and angels have wings. You always have wings, in my dreams.”

Lucifer opened his mouth and closed it again.

“And on this note,” Chloe interjected, “you’re going back to your room and to sleep, little weasel.”

“You still haven’t told me what you were arguing about,” Trixie returned.

“Your mother wants me to spoil her Christmas surprise,” Lucifer said before Chloe could insist on the going-back-to-bed issue.

She sighed. “Forgive me for being a little cautious about your surprises, Lucifer.”

He looked at her, and she could practically see him shut down as the glee left his eyes. “You’re right. I can’t be trusted. Coming here was a mistake.”

Well, that had clearly hurt him, which wasn’t what she wanted, either. She put her hand to her forehead. Why did everything about him have to be so complicated? “Lucifer…”

But he was already moving. Not towards the door, though, but to her bookshelf, where he withdrew an envelope from its hiding place between two books. “This is what this was all about, Detective,” he said, turning and holding it up. “I had planned on sending you a text when the time was right so you could find it, but maybe this entire thing was a bad idea.” He held it out to her. “You decide.”

She took the envelope, conscious of Trixie standing next to her craning her neck, and looked at Lucifer in indecision.

He sighed. “Well, go on then, open it.” 

She did. Inside was a greeting card, plane tickets, and a voucher for an all-expenses paid week-long stay at -- She stopped reading. That must have been so expensive. Was he trying to buy her affection? “Lucifer, what is this?” She felt Trixie snatch the documents out of her hand but kept her focus on him.

He put his head to one side. “A week away from it all, in the snow, for you and your offspring.”

“This wouldn’t be an attempt to get me away from a certain lieutenant, would it?”

He sighed again. “If you must know, yes, it is, but not for the reason you think.”

“I can’t believe this.” She could hear the anger building in her voice and made no attempt to hide it.

“Will you be coming with us?” Trixie cut her off before she could gather speed.

“Uh -” Lucifer began.

“We’re not going,” Chloe said firmly. She wasn’t falling for this. She wouldn’t allow herself to hope. Not again.

“Aw, Mommy, I think it’s a great idea. But only if Lucifer comes with.” She held up the opened two-leaf brochure and turned on the puppy-dog eyes. “I’ve never seen so much snow before. Look! And it’s such a cute little cabin!”

Chloe looked. Trixie was right, which didn’t make it any better. “This must’ve cost a fortune. We can’t accept it.” Well. She couldn’t accept it for lots of other reasons, but her daughter didn’t need to know that.

“As a matter of fact,” Lucifer began, “I own the cabin, and the tickets are for flights in a private jet the owner of which owes me a favor, so no, it didn’t cost a fortune.” He smiled a funny little smile. “Unless you count the gift of time spent with your loved one, which is indeed priceless.”

And just like that, he struck her speechless again with his words and the pleading look on his unnecessarily handsome face, and her anger evaporated.

“Mommy,” Trixie said in a stage whisper, delivering the coup-de-grâce, “think of Monopoly.”

 

* * *

 

Christmas at the Decker-Espinoza household was a quiet affair. Two years ago, Trixie had announced that she didn’t think Santa Claus was real, which had admittedly taken some of the magic out of it for Chloe and Dan. Then they’d split up, which hadn’t exactly helped. They still did their best to find time for their traditional family dinner, though. Chloe’s mother would join them, her own busy schedule permitting, but otherwise they would stay in and simply enjoy their rare time together.

This year, Chloe had gone back and on forth on whether she wanted Lucifer to join them. There had been a single glorious day, just a few months ago, when there hadn’t been any question about it. God, what hopes she’d had. Of course, next thing she knew, he’d chickened out and taken a sharp left into a territory where Chloe couldn’t follow, wasn’t sure she wanted to follow. He’d married, then annulled it a week later. He’d ranted about his father, his mother, his father again, left her high and dry on her birthday - only to turn around and give her the most thoughtful gift she’d ever received -, colluded with Pierce behind her back….

Pierce. Chloe had spent about twenty seconds actually considering asking the lieutenant whether he’d care to join her for Christmas, but the impulse had died before gaining any traction. For one, it would be incredibly inappropriate for her to cozy up to her superior like that. And for another…. Well, she wasn’t sure she actually truly wanted him there.

No. She wanted Lucifer to be with her, if she was honest with herself. If only he were a little less… Lucifer. Not too much; she didn’t want him to lose what made him so unique, but a little less unpredictable would be nice. So would finally knowing where she stood with him. She’d feel much less unsettled.

But, she supposed, she might as well ask the sea or the weather to be less unpredictable.

Then, Monopoly night had happened. Like the onion Lucifer had once likened himself to, he’d shown her a new layer, that of a man actually comfortable in what she would have expected to be a, for him, painfully domestic setting, up to and including allowing Trixie to paint his face. The mysterious club owner, happy doing shoe things.

She’d been back onboard with asking him to join them at that point.

Then the Sinnerman thing had gone down. He’d gone behind her back yet again, and now she was just tired. Tired of being tossed about by his whims and moods like a ship in a storm, tired of feeling one thing for him one second and another the next, torn between mentally playing out scenarios of them in a relationship and doing her best to shut him out of her heart entirely. It was exhausting.

Of course, then he’d gone and given her family time in the snowy mountains.

In the end, they’d spent Christmas without the self-proclaimed Devil, just her and Dan and Trixie. She’d figured it’d be easier on her heart that way. She had enjoyed noticing the irony of her and her ex husband commiserating over new and complicated emotional entanglements. Apparently, he didn’t know where he stood with Charlotte Richards, so he could relate to Chloe’s Lucifer woes (she didn’t tell him about the Pierce part of it). What a strange family they’d become.

But for how much Lucifer was on her mind all the time, he might as well have been there.

 

* * *

 

The cabin really looked like something right out of a fairytale.

Secluded, nestled into the side of a hill with a great view (naturally), housing three bedrooms and all the amenities yet small enough to still feel cozy, and surrounded by new snow about a yard deep. Someone had kept the small lane leading up to it free of snow, but even the four-by-four Lucifer had rented (or owned, possibly, because who knew with him) had struggled a bit going up the incline.

“Nice place,” Chloe commented as she unloaded her bag. “Come here often?”

She heard the snarky undertone in her own voice, because why would he own such a place except to bring his latest paramour to it? He certainly wasn’t the type for quiet solitary contemplations in the wilderness. And no, she wasn’t jealous. Jealousy would imply that she had a dog in the race of who Lucifer Morningstar slept with, which she didn’t. Not at all.

“This is only the second time I’m out here, actually,” Lucifer said, carrying their bags to the front door and unlocking it. “The first time was when it was completed just this August. Turned out quite nicely, if I do say so myself.”

“Did you build it?” Trixie wanted to know.

The door swung open, revealing a surprisingly airy interior for all the dark wood in sight.

“I designed it, a friend of mine built it for me. Well. I say ‘friend’.”

Chloe gave him a look, but he didn’t elaborate, and she decided that it was none of her business. Stepping inside and looking around, she amended her earlier statement,  _ “Very _ nice. How many properties do you own, anyway?”

He put the bags down to open a hatch and flip a switch inside it. The lights came on. “Just on this continent, or on Earth?”

Chloe rolled her eyes. She never quite knew how to take his quips, but she was pretty sure that this was a joke. She knew that he owned more than a dozen properties in SoCal alone, which would extrapolate to close to a hundred all over the world. Yeah, just nope.

“We’ll have to wait a while for the heaters to kick in,” he went on, taking out his phone, “so how about we go take a bit of a walk first, get you ladies acquainted with the area?”

“Ooh, we can make snow angels!” Trixie chimed in excitedly. “Proper ones!”

Lucifer gave her a strange look, and she beamed up at him guilelessly.

“There’s enough snow here for proper snow angels,” she elaborated, opening her bag to take out her cold weather gear. “Come on, Lucifer, I’ll show you how it’s done.”

 

* * *

 

Making snow angels, as it turned out, was an activity predestined to drench little girls and bring out the devil in the self-proclaimed Devil. Much to Trixie’s delight, their hike afterwards soon deteriorated into a snowball fight that kept going, on and off, right until they were back at the cabin.

They stumbled through the front door, snow melting on their clothes in the now blessedly warm air inside, while Chloe tried not to wince too much. Lucifer’s snow balls had been  _ hard. _ She’d refrained from mentioning it, not wanting to give him an opportunity for sexual innuendo while Trixie was listening. She wondered how he’d managed to turn his projectiles into literal ice, what with the snow being so pulvery that it was hard to get it to clump at all.

No matter how he’d done it, she’d managed to hold her own, thanks to police training and native quick reflexes, and she was pleased to see that his hair and shirt were soaking wet, his nose and hands were red, and he seemed to be shivering even as the snow still clinging to his hair was turning into water and running down his face.

The worst of it was, though, that he was incredibly, disturbingly attractive to her right now. Gone was the polished club owner. Seeing him like this, flushed from the cold air, hair in chaotic black curls, she could almost imagine the little boy he must once have been. At the same time, though, he had never appeared more masculine to her.

Right. Time to distract herself. “Uh, how are we on provisions? I’m kind of….” She trailed off.

Looking into the living room, she spotted the dinner table, now set for three, several covered dishes set on rechauds, and an opened and re-corked bottle of wine on the table. Even a real fire was crackling and hissing in the fireplace.

“Ah, excellent,” Lucifer said, pushing past her barefoot and sans his drenched cold-weather clothes to lift the lid on a dish and inhale the fumes that escaped. “I hope you’re hungry, ladies. If this is as good as it smells….”

“Lucifer, how did you....?” Chloe began, her stomach sinking. He couldn’t be in two places at once, could he? Was this another thing she’d have to ignore that would make perfect sense if only she accepted the premise that he was really…?

He grinned at her, clearly pleased with himself. Chloe tried not to notice the way his wet shirt clung to his body, outlining his toned musculature. “I didn’t, obviously. Same guy who cleared the lane and built this cabin for me did. Don’t worry, he’s not staying in here, but nearby.”

_ Whew. Perfectly natural explanation, then. _ “Wow,” Chloe said, relieved. “That must be some favor he owes you.”

His grin assumed an overtone that Chloe couldn’t read. “You might say that.”

He didn’t elaborate on that, and Chloe tried to forget about it during dinner, which turned out to be a surprisingly pleasant and lighthearted affair. Apparently Lucifer was capable of behaving if he really put his mind to it. She found herself feeling resentment over that because of the many times he obviously hadn’t put his mind to it, but she kept her mouth shut for Trixie’s sake.

Her daughter clearly was in heaven. She’d always loved traveling and seeing new places; Lucifer was one of her favorite, if not  _ the _ favorite, non-family people, and now she got to experience both these things at once. Besides, it was still Christmas, sort of. Chloe could stand to make an effort not to spoil this for her.

They settled down in front of the fireplace while Trixie, wonder of wonders, volunteered to take care of the dishes, Lucifer inching quite close to the fire while Chloe stayed back. She was feeling flushed from dinner and the glass of wine she’d had and didn’t need the additional heat. He had changed into dry clothes, and it had been more than an hour. He couldn’t possibly still be cold, could he?

If he was, he didn’t say anything, but she noticed that he didn’t budge from his spot in front of the fire all through Monopoly.

In fact, he was still there when Chloe returned from story time for Trixie. “She wants you to do the honors tomorrow,” she informed him, grabbing her glass and joining him on the bear rug.

“Ugh,” he said, predictable for once. Then he brightened. “That mean that you won’t throw me out tomorrow?”

_ Honestly.  _ “Why would I do that?”

He shrugged. “To be alone with your offspring. That’s the gift I gave you, after all. You obviously only allowed me to come along today to indulge her. I mean, we both know how selfless you are regarding her. And now that you have granted her wish, I thought you’d rather not be in my company any longer.”

She leaned back on one elbow, taking a sip of wine while she collected her thoughts. This, this right here was why she couldn’t stay mad at him for any length of time. Thoughtless one minute, adorably selfless to the point of self-sacrifice the next. Just like his speech on the beach had proven.

What was she supposed to do with him?

She made a sound of frustration. “I don’t want you to leave, okay? Let’s just… do this, for this week. Not just for Trixie, either. I can tell that you’d rather be here than elsewhere.”

He didn’t disagree, which was all the confirmation she needed. “So,” he said instead. “Do you like it here? The cabin, I mean?”

Good thing she was used to his sudden changes of topic by now. She nodded. “It’s nice. Quiet. Great view.”

He smiled, looking relieved.

“I mean,” she burst out, “you’re the one who keeps insisting that we’re just friends.”

“We are,” he said, looking at her out of wide, unnecessarily pretty eyes. “And there’s no ‘just’ about it. I don’t have many friends, Detective.”

_ Just an endless string of meaningless lovers, _ Chloe mentally supplied, trying to suppress some searing emotion that might or might not be crushing disappointment at hearing him say ‘just friends’ again.

She looked at him, studying his profile as he stared into the flames, flames that were still flickering high as he’d apparently kept the fire well fed, and she wondered how he could possibly still be cold.

Underneath all that, Chloe was well aware that she was standing at a crossroads she’d been hovering on for too long now. Like she’d said before, she either needed to leave this thing she had with Lucifer behind for good and find someone new (possibly someone she might or might not have had her eye on already), or she needed to find out where she stood with Lucifer. That included finally knowing what his deal was. His whole deal. And then, she needed to commit, one way or another.

He seemed to feel her eyes on him, because he turned his head to look at her.

One last time. She promised herself she’d try one last time. “Talk to me, Lucifer,” she said, putting everything she felt into her words. “You keep telling me that I can’t understand. Please, try to make me. You promised you would. I don’t know what happened back then, but… Please, Lucifer. Try.”

It wasn’t the most coherent speech she’d ever made, but it seemed to get her point across, because his eyes softened, and he gave a heartfelt sigh.

“I can’t,” he said, voice close to breaking. “And not because I don’t want to. I physically can’t. I’ve tried to explain with words so many times that I’m well aware that nothing but physical proof will convince you, and that’s the one thing I can’t give you right now. Maybe never again, I don’t know.”

The familiar anger flared up again in her, but she suppressed it. She’d promised herself she’d find out what his deal was. “Alright,” she said, “then just tell me. What was it you wanted to show me back then?”

He sighed again. “My true face.” He paused, looking at her warily.

She’d promised herself she’d try. “So, what, this is a mask?” She pointed at his face.

He made a sound of frustration. “You know, it’s really hard to explain the supernatural in human terms, Detective.”

_ Supernatural.  _ She gritted her teeth, then forced herself to calm. It would be so easy to just write him off as delusional if there weren’t the hundred little things about him that didn’t make sense unless you brought in an irrational explanation at some point. Occam’s Razor, and all that. Besides, she knew in her heart of hearts that he wasn’t crazy.

“Please, try,” she said. “I promise I’ll try to listen.”

“Alright.” He put another log into the fire. Then he reached for his glass, found it empty, and refilled it from the bottle of no doubt expensive Scotch that stood next to him.

Chloe recognized his delay tactics for what they were but didn’t say anything. If he was feeling half as apprehensive as she was, she didn’t blame him.

“Humans have always depicted the Devil as something not human-looking,” he finally said, back to staring into the flames. “So, I understand your confusion when I say that I’m the Devil, because, well.” He turned his head to grin at her. “Clearly, I’m not just human-looking, but  _ handsomely  _ human-looking.”

Again, Chloe didn’t say anything. She couldn’t help but return his grin, though. His vanity had always been a source of amusement for her.

_ Pride,  _ a voice inside of her said.  _ The Devil’s sin is Pride. _

“Anyway,” he went on, “there’s one thing all those depictions have in common, and that’s the only thing they don’t get wrong. I don’t have horns, or cloven feet, or a tail, or bat-like wings, or a goat face, or whatever other ridiculous aspects I’ve been settled with over the millennia. But my skin really is reddish, and my eyes really do glow.”

He had turned to look at her again when he said that last bit, so he must have seen her expression.

_ Clearly, _ she didn’t say out loud and was sure she didn’t need to.

“I know,” he said softly. “Hard to believe, when I look like this.”

“Impossible to believe,” she finally said. “Lucifer, I’m trying to listen, but you must realize how this sounds.”

“Like someone who’s being kept from showing the truth to the most important person in his life because of machinations beyond his control?” he returned, no longer soft and contemplative.

She opened her mouth to tell him what it  _ really  _ sounded like, but closed it again. She had promised to listen. “Okay,” she said instead, “let’s assume that we can’t pursue this line any further, because it leads nowhere. What else can you tell me?”

He downed the rest of his glass. “Oh, I could show you something that would make you at least believe that I’m not a nutcase, but it most certainly wouldn’t make you believe that I’m the Devil, so I’m not showing you that.” He looked up at the ceiling and growled. “Thanks ever so much for that bit of irony, by the way, Dad.”

Something he’d said came back to her. “Am I really?”

“What?”

“The most important person in your life.”

“Yes,” he said, as if it were glaringly obvious. “Of course you are.”

For a minute, she didn’t know what to say to that while in her heart, the old conflict of hope versus realism versus disappointment versus her own feelings raged for a bit, leaving her exhausted but no closer to finding a solution.

“Okay,” she finally said. “Let’s assume for a second that what you’re saying is true. How come that I, Chloe Decker, ordinary human being, should be the most important person to the Actual Devil?”

“For one, you’re special, and for another, the Actual Devil doesn’t know,” he sighed. “The Devil doesn’t know a lot of things, which is why the Devil came up here, to Earth, in the first place - to learn about you humans by being among you while you’re still alive. And right now, the Devil’s wondering whether he should open another bottle of red for the most important person in his life, because right now he needs a drink, and it would be impolite not to offer.”

She couldn’t help it - she smiled. How, oh how was she supposed to be mad at him, let alone stay mad at him for any length of time? “I really wish you would show me that thing you don’t want to show me,” she said impulsively, “and I’m only putting it like this because I’ve already seen the thing you really want to show me. Twice.”

He chortled at that, then grew serious again. “Doing that would give you a completely false idea about me.”

“What idea would it give me, then?”

He grimaced, then met her gaze. “It would make you think I’m an angel.”

“An angel.” She could hear the incredulity in her own voice. “You.”

“Hmhm.”

“It’s far easier to believe you’re the Devil, you know.”

“Thank you for that, Detective, but you would definitely think otherwise if I showed you.”

“So, what, you have wings?”

He sighed. “Yes.”

Pointedly, she looked at his abundantly wingless back. “They must be really tiny, then.”

“Nothing about me is tiny,” he protested, “and you can’t see them because they’re supernatural.”

She thought she already knew where this was going. “And, let me guess, because you’re somehow physically incapable of showing them to me.” Would this ever end? Would she ever reach a point where she stopped giving him second, third, and tenth chances? Would she ever be able to admit that, yes, he was a complete nutcase, and leave it at that?

“I don’t know,” he said, oblivious to her thoughts. “I haven’t tried showing them to you, and you, Detective, are special, so I suppose it’s possible that you affect my wings, too.”

“And wouldn’t that be convenient,” she couldn’t help retorting.

“It would be counterproductive if I could show you,” he said pointedly, “because I’m not an angel. Haven’t been for eons. I didn’t want the wings, which is why I cut them off in the first place. And now they’re back, and keep growing back, and I don’t know why or how --”

“Wait.” She held up a hand. “They keep growing back? Does that - does that mean you’ve cut them off  _ again?” _

“Several times,” he nodded. “Pesky things. I’ve stopped, for now, but that doesn’t mean that I’ve decided to keep them.”

She stared at him. This would be so much less disturbing if he truly was delusional. Then again, she’d seen his scars. They had been undeniably real. Self-mutilation. Repeated self-mutilation, if what he said was true. But if it was true, and if they’d grown back and he’d stopped….

A thought came to her. “Can I… Can I see your back?”

“Of course, Detective, but seeing it won’t prove anything, now will it. You’ll only find a way to explain things away again.” While he talked, he began to unbutton his shirt, revealing his chiseled upper body and, yes, flawless back. The huge twin scars that had marred it were gone as if they had never been.

Impulsively, she ran her hand over the places next to his spine where she remembered them so long ago to confirm what her eyes were seeing, and he twitched.

“Sorry,” she said quickly, drawing back her hands as she realized she’d overstepped.

“It’s fine,” he said. “Dad knows I should be used by now to being touched.” He shivered, and Chloe realized that his skin was covered in goosebumps.

“You can’t still be cold,” she said, incredulous. It was like an oven in here.

“Well, I am. Not much snow down in Hell, and being on Earth for a few days every few years apparently isn’t enough to get used to how cold it is. Especially when you get it shoved down your back.”

She looked at him. He truly never slipped from his persona, not even for a second. She had no doubt that, even if woken from deep sleep in the middle of the night, he’d have a fitting, in-character response to any question or remark. “Lucifer….” She didn’t even know what she wanted to say.

He returned her look, raising his eyebrows. “So. Is this enough evidence to convince you? Have I made good on my promise? Can we go back to being professional partners now without this festering between us?”

“You’ve shown me something that I can’t easily explain,” she admitted, “but it doesn’t prove you’re the Devil.”

“No,” he said intently, “but it proves I’m an angel. Isn’t that enough?”

He must have seen her answer in her eyes, because he added, “No. Apparently not.”

 

* * *

 

The next morning began rather abruptly, with the door to Chloe’s bedroom crashing open and Trixie jumping onto her bed. “Mommy, Mommy, look out the window!”

Fortunately, Chloe had already been awake and debating getting up. Still. This early morning enthusiasm hadn’t happened in a while, not since Trixie had turned eight. “What is it, Monkey?” she said, throwing the covers aside.

Trixie was already at the window. “Look, just look!”

Expecting nothing less than Santa and his sleigh standing outside, she joined her daughter at the window.

The first thing she saw was that it must have snowed heavily overnight, because there was no trace left of their snow angel shenanigans yesterday. Everything, including the lane leading to the cabin, was covered by a thick white blanket.

“It snowed,” Chloe said. “Very pretty.” It didn’t merit all that excitement, but then again, Trixie hadn’t seen much snow yet in her short life.

“Not that, Mom,” Trixie said. “That. Look!” She pointed down and to the far right.

The smooth snow had been disturbed where Trixie was pointing. A new snow angel was clearly visible, in a place where they hadn’t been yesterday.

And no ordinary snow angel, either. Whoever had made it must really have had wings. Each one longer than body height, they had left a perfectly clear impression. At the end of each wing, Chloe could discern the individual primaries even from this distance.

“Huh,” she said. “That’s some snow angel.”

“Get dressed, Mommy,” Trixie whispered urgently. “Let’s look at it from up close.”

 

* * *

 

Lucifer was standing in the doorway when they came back stomping up the pathway around the house, holding a coffee cup in both hands as if to warm his fingers on it.

He looked at them looking at him, eyebrows raised, clearly expecting them to say something.

They didn’t. Chloe saw Trixie give him a smile that was shyer than any she’d seen on her little monkey’s face. As for herself, she decided that she’d need a cup of coffee and possibly a shot of something alcoholic, not necessarily in that order.

He grimaced. “Don’t tell me that that was all it took to convince you.”

Chloe found her voice. “Well, it is very impressive.”

He scoffed. “It’s just an impression in the snow, albeit an impressive one.” Ignoring his own pun, he went on, “But I would have thought that you’d just argue it away, like you have everything else that should have convinced you of the truth before. Why is this, of all things, sufficient?”

“Four reasons,” Chloe said, “apart from the enormous coincidence of it turning up after what we were talking about yesterday. One, if it were fake, it could only have been done with the aid of detailed wing models. You showed me around everywhere yesterday, and there’s no way these huge things could have been hidden anywhere in the cabin. Two, there’s a trail of footsteps leading to the snow angel and back, and they both originate from and go back to, here. It wasn’t Trixie or me, which leaves you. Oh, and three, the back of your shirt is still wet. Also, you’re shivering. It’s been really you lying in the snow, which you wouldn’t have done if you had a model to do it for you.”

“And four,” Trixie added triumphantly, “I found this in the snow.” She held up a small white feather. “It glows.”

Chloe nodded. In truth, it had been the feather that had done it for her. The rest might still have been an elaborate trick. But the feather, almost invisible in the snow, had clearly been left behind accidentally. She’d seen enough crime scenes to realize when evidence had been overlooked rather than deliberately planted. Putting the feather into the snow angel hadn’t been part of Lucifer’s plan, and its soft, ephemeral glow wasn’t something that could be easily faked.

Ergo, it hadn’t been a trick at all. It had been his way of showing her his winged form without actually showing her anything. It had also been the proverbial straw for her list of Things To Ignore About Lucifer Morningstar.

And if she hadn’t been convinced before, the expression of surprised annoyance with himself on his face as he saw his feather in Trixie’s hand would have done it.

“You do realize,” she said, “that I’m going to need to actually see them at some point, right?”

“I suppose so,” Lucifer said, resigned. “But right now, let’s get back inside, for Dad’s sake. It’s freezing out here.”

 

* * *

 

Breakfast was a subdued affair. Only Trixie retained her exuberance following her brief attack of nerves in the presence of The Actual Devil, and soon, her nonverbal “I told you so, Mommy” was getting hard to ignore.

Chloe was silent. Her world had turned on its axis, and she had a bit of processing to do. Not because Lucifer actually was the Devil - she’d tried to keep herself from accepting that knowledge for the longest time. No, the problem was the revelation that the Devil clearly wasn’t evil, because Lucifer wasn’t evil. And if the Devil wasn’t truly evil, what else that everyone was taking for granted was wrong?

The reason for Lucifer’s uncharacteristic quiet and furtive glances at them both wasn’t hard to guess, either. He was probably expecting them to run screaming for the hills if he made a wrong move.

Finally, he apparently couldn’t take it anymore. “Maybe you want me to leave now, after all,” he said, looking and sounding very much like he was expecting Chloe to take him up on that offer and dreading it.

In truth, she didn’t know how she felt. “Ask me again in an hour.”

Trixie smiled at her. “He’s going to be the same in an hour, Mom,” she said, “tall and funny.” And Chloe wondered when her little girl had grown up to be so wise.

As it turned out, she didn’t need an hour to make up her mind how she felt. Some part of her, she supposed, had always known, ever since Jimmy Barnes. She’d just been too set in her ways to consciously accept the knowledge. It had been easier to go on thinking that none of it existed, no Heaven, no Hell, no God, no Devil; just good and evil and the laws of nature and mankind.

No, she wouldn’t ask Lucifer to leave. Nor would she refuse to work with him any longer. She wasn’t suddenly afraid of him, either. That would be ridiculous, especially looking at him now intently listening to Trixie explaining the rules of Sorry! to him.

He might be the Devil, but to Chloe Decker, he’d always be her unpredictable partner who juggled evidence at a crime scene, made every case about himself, and had a tendency to get naked or break into song at unexpected moments. Sure, there were bigger implications, but she’d always been good at ignoring those in favor of the next thing to focus on.

Besides, Chloe only needed to take one look at him now, huddled into the fluffy black robe he’d changed into after shedding his wet shirt and trying to suppress his shivers, to find him adorable rather than scary, the poor freezing Devil.

Then it dawned on her that a), she hadn’t thought of Pierce ever since they’d gotten here, and b), she owed Lucifer one hell of an apology.

“Look, Mommy, it’s snowing,” Trixie said. “At this rate, we’re gonna get snowed in!” She sounded like that was the most exciting thing in the world, while the literal Devil was lying in his bathrobe next to her, peering at the board and moving his nubbin (not a euphemism).  _ The resilience of the young. _

_ Enough contemplation. _ Playing Sorry! with her family was sounding, well, heavenly right now, and sort of topical. Chloe got up to join them. Lucifer looked up at her soulfully with his, yes, pretty eyes, and she realized she’d probably given him the most valuable gift he’d ever received - acceptance.

“Let it snow,” she said softly. “And let me start apologizing.”

**Author's Note:**

> My prompts were  
> "Chloe catches Lucifer sneaking into her apartment to give her a Christmas present."  
> and  
> "Let It Snow" performed by Frank Sinatra  
> I overdid the first and only mentioned the second, lol. I hope you still liked it.


End file.
